Half Open Doors

Escape

Pack, pack pack! I will need these shoes, this shirt, this dress, cute shoes! I think, as I tear at my apartment. Grabbing my purse, and my only luggage, and walking to the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

They have come for me. What do I do, What to do!... Come on Christina, think!!... Fire Escape.

As quietly as i can i pick up my luggage, and quietly move around the coffe table and couch, to the window. As silently as a mouse, I open the window, the cool breeze of winter fills me. Taking deep breaths, I place my luggage onto the fire escape. I grab the long strap of my purse, I put it over my head,and across my chest. Sliding out the window, looking down my all air escapes my body. I have a traumetizing fear of heights but, thank God I olny live on the 4th floor. I close my window, and start to descend the stairs. So close to freedom! The first two flights of stairs are a breeze, and the third come as easy, but the fourth takes a little bit of will power. I havn't worked out in what feels like centuries. I jump off the last step, luggage in hand I stand at the curb waving my arm in the air, waiting for a cab.

Come on, honestly how hard is it to not notice a chick on a curb waving like an idiot! Growing frustrated, I do the ever known whistle. Immediately a taxi pulls into the space. I jump in, luggage first.

"So where to?" The cap driver asks looking in the mirror. He is dark complected, with a grey well trimmed beard. His eyes are a light brown, almost goldish, but under his eyes are bags of lost sleep.

"Uh, the Holloway Airport, please." I say to him, checking my purse for money.

"Right away ma'am." He says pulling into the long line of traffic. Looking back at my old apartment, I say my goodbyes. Goodbye my years collection of books, goodbye to my favorite Fioni shoes, goodbye to any life I could have had.

But most, Goodbye to who ever was at my door.